Creep
by Seven In The AM
Summary: All legends have a beginning, a childhood. Even the creeps and the weirdos. L/OC


_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, Death Note or any Death Note related materials. That all belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I merely own any original characters I create to insert into the Death Note-realm in order to tell a story._

* * *

**Creep**

Prologue

Their Last Goodbyes

* * *

The small apartment had never seemed so bare, so lifeless.

The new tenant didn't have any pictures or photographs adorning the white walls and instead placed the one picture frame she did own on the living room floor next to her couch. Strangely, the frame's sample picture was still in place—a young Hispanic family smiling with a beach view in the background and the measurements for the photograph printed in large, black letters across the bottom. It was worn from constant handling and the elated faces were marked with slight creases.

The furniture was sparse, consisting only of a fraying taupe couch, a single mattress with faded green sheets and one pillow, a coffee-stained desk rescued from the side of the street, and a tiny dresser containing a minimum of clothing. Everything was secondhand and past its prime but the renter never gave them anything more than a lingering glance.

Her days were spent in front of the bulky television placed on top of two wooden chairs that she had pushed together for a makeshift stand. An entire day could go by without her realizing until an alarm from her phone would go off, shaking her from the trance and back into reality.

If life were this aimless, her daydreams weren't much better. The landlord had already stumbled upon her dazed in front of the TV, muted and displaying the current disturbing news, not knowing how long she had been there. Only with a physical nudge would she stir and he'd say, "You all right, Miss Minnie? You've been out of it again." He could think of only two other times he'd had to do something similar with other tenants.

But seeing as she had paid her rent on time thus far, so as far as the landlord was concerned, Minnie could be a meth addict on a bender and it wouldn't matter so long as she didn't destroy the place. Even the most uptight, law-abiding tenants slipped up on the rent. Minnie even managed to pay early once, which completely baffled the landlord as she didn't work as far as he knew.

Maybe she wasn't a meth addict but a dealer.

But for the most part, the landlord ignored her and just let her be. The few times he had to check in on her had been prompted by one thing or another. Mostly it was a complaint that the television was up too loud and he would come up and find her in full trance with the TV blaring about a recent death.

A few times though he'd received a phone call, advising him to go see her. Those were always dreadful, the phone calls. The voice would be slightly distorted, distant, telling him that Minnie's current state of being was in question. The landlord never found out for certain how the stranger knew but it would be the case every time.

He'd let himself in and Minnie would be on the floor, immobilized and wide eyes staring up at the ceiling. Or she would be in the corner on her pitiful bed bawling her eyes out and clutching her knees up to her chest. Either way, the landlord would call an ambulance and Minnie would be taken to the hospital.

Again, he had no idea how she could possess such amounts of money to cover the bills every single time.

This time though, the landlord received a complaint from Minnie's neighbor about possibly hearing her crying. That or she was laughing hysterically. Thinking this could be like one of her previous breakdowns, he didn't hesitate to climb the stairs leading to her unit and unlocking the door with his master copy. The door swung open easily and he poked his head inside, sweeping the small space with one glance.

The TV was silent and the picture frame was facing down.

_Odd_, he mused to himself. _I've never seen the picture frame on the floor like that._

Then he heard the sobbing coming from the kitchen.

The landlord straightened suddenly, always uncomfortable with these situations, never getting used to the girl's tears. Wanting to make his presence known—and possibly giving her a moment's notice to compose herself—he rapped his knuckles against the paneled door twice, succinctly and firmly.

He hoped that she heard him.

The landlord quietly stepped over the threshold and began following the sounds of her crying. As he neared the corner that opened up to the kitchen area, he could finally make out her words.

"Please," she begged. "Please don't do this."

_Must be on the phone,_ he figured.

A powerful wail came from the kitchen and the landlord decided that he shouldn't be there, shouldn't be there listening to that.

"_Please_."

She didn't just sound sad.

She sounded like she was in **agony**, anguishing over what the person on the other line was telling her.

"_You can't leave me_."

Daring a quick peek, the landlord inched closer to the corner and cautiously peered around it. Minnie was in a heap on the tile floor, on her knees and her head bowed over with the phone desperately clutched to her ear. Long, black hair spilled around her and concealed her face as sobs racked her body and she trembled near uncontrollably.

"_How can it end like this?_"

That was it. The landlord had seen and heard enough and chose to leave her alone to sort out her own troubles. If there were any real danger, he would receive a concerned phone call from the mystery man who constantly alerted him to her episodes. The lack of such a call signified that she wasn't at risk.

Though her tormented cries would have him believe otherwise.

But he shook his head and let himself out just as discreetly as he had entered. He wasn't going to worry over this. The girl wasn't any of his concern outside of rent and property damage.

* * *

The reporters were useless, as usual.

Minnie had yet to learn of any new information and began to sincerely believe that the news stations were no longer determined to solve the murder cases like they had once before. Perhaps they had grown tired of not having any explanations as the public wanted more than just a rehashing of the strange criminals' deaths. People wanted answers and the news stations had none to give. But that was assuming the media was honorable enough to not have cut back due to the second possibility.

Minnie realized that the world was now living in daunting times—fears were understandable and expected. She had only wished that everyone would react to it the same way her friend was, actually attempting to do something about it instead of walking around with a mirror to see over their shoulders.

Minnie herself had been forbidden by this very friend from getting directly involved with the case. Not that she even had the ability or the resources of doing so in the first place.

Minnie was kept financially dependent on her friend, only given enough for rent, bills, and groceries. She couldn't even afford a taxi on her own.

Sighing, Minnie stretched out along the couch and began slipping into a trance, staring at the TV screen currently displaying a woman reporter interviewing some elder about the poor state of his neighborhood's roads. She allowed a small scoff before no longer seeing the actions. The volume had been tuned out a while ago.

An hour eased by and Minnie had yet to move from her lax position.

Her days had been filled with nothing ever since she was removed from the case headed by her friend. He claimed it was due to her constant interference and she claimed it was due to his constant worrying. Minnie wouldn't lie about her disappointment of being removed from the team but above all she was frustrated that her friend refused to keep her in the know.

All Minnie could do to keep up with their progress was watch the news. Which meant she was still left in the dark.

During the second hour, Minnie was roused by the piercing ringtone of her cell phone sounding from the kitchen and with a deep sigh, heaved herself from the sagging couch and ambled towards the noisy contraption. She scratched her cheek aimlessly before slapping her palm down onto the offending device and bringing it up to her face.

**Leon.**

Minnie's green eyes narrowed and an angry hand combed through her black hair to push it out of her face while the other pressed the button to answer and she held the phone up against her ear.

"How nice of you to call, _Leon_," she greeted scathingly. "I was just thinking about you and how you keep—"

"_I have news."_

Minnie silenced without hesitation. "Yes?" she urged.

The strange, synthesized voice sounded rushed and almost desperate. Any thoughts Minnie had of confronting Leon about him brushing her off the case were long gone. She'd heard his desperation a few times before but this was mixed with something else. Something darker, something troubling. Something that unsettled Minnie the longer she went without answers.

And he never used his voice modifier when calling her.

He paused, but Minnie could still hear his breathing.

"_Watari is dead." _

—_**WHAT?**_

Minnie gripped the edge of the sink to keep from collapsing. Her breathing stopped, her heartbeat stopped, all train of thought stopped. She was at a loss for everything. With those three words her entire world had come to a grinding standstill and only her shock kept her from falling to pieces.

With a shaky breath, Minnie asked, "What?"

"_He was killed."_

Minnie then understood why Leon was using the modifier. He was distressed, upset. He didn't want her to see that—hear that.

"Was it—"

"_Yes, I'm almost certain it was the shinigami."_

Her knuckles whitened as her hold on the sink tightened and she felt the tears falling. Minnie bowed her head, eyes shut tightly, as she tried to block the image of the lifeless body of the man she had always looked up to. She couldn't allow this to be the image that ruled his definition.

"Now what?" Her voice cracked—it pained her to ask but they needed to continue on. She was counting on Leon to guide them through this. He always knew what to do. . .

"_You will remain where you are,"_

_**What?**_

"_Only when the team contacts you are you to leave your apartment,"_

_**No!**_

"_They will contact you to collect my things—"_

"Stop," she commanded firmly. "What are you talking about? Collect your things?"

Leon paused. And then, _". . .I will be dead soon."_

"What?" Minnie felt her knees failing and her grip on the sink weakening. She crumpled to the floor, stunned.

"_Yes, I suspect that the Shinigami will be targeting me next. I'm actually a little surprised it's taken this long. I figured that it would kill me right after Watari but I decided to chance a phone call regardless. For whatever reason, I've managed to stay alive this long to call you."_

"Don't talk like that."

Here she was, in a heap of suffering on the floor, and Leon was discussing his coming death as if it were a new theory he had so suddenly been struck with in the midst of the case. Minnie couldn't stand it. She wanted him to feel as pained as she was. Didn't he understand the gravity of the situation they were in?

He seemed to ignore her protest. _"The team will get in touch with you and you are to collect my things. As you know, everything that is mine is now yours. You may do as you wish with them. The only exception will be a box labeled _**Misc. Bath.** _This box is for your eyes only. I ask that you keep it private—"_

"Stop."

"_Consider its contents as being strictly between us. No one else."_

"Please."

"_You have no need to worry about your true identity being discovered by Kira. Watari destroyed all of our information and data. As long as you stay smart—which shouldn't be difficult for you—and always think ahead, you will remain safe."_

"Please stop."

"_Now I'm curious as to why the shinigami hasn't killed me yet. More than enough time has passed to be able to kill me ten times over—"_

"Stop it!" Minnie shouted. "Please! Stop talking like this! It's awful, absolutely horrific to hear you talk about your death so flippantly! Do you not understand what's happening?"

"_You really think I am unaware of our situation?"_ He actually sounded a little surprised.

"I think you're unaware of what our situation is doing to **me**!" she cried desperately. "You have to find a way out of this, Leon! Leave, get out of there, do something!"

"_I can't leave."_

"Yes, you can! Please! Just get out of there and come here! You can stay here until things clam down and then we'll catch Kira! We'll catch Kira together for Watari's sake! **Please**!" Minnie doubled over, the weight of the torment was to much for her to shoulder. Tears were streaming down her cheeks freely.

"_I _can't_ leave. There is no running from this. I would only be putting you in danger."_

"Please," she begged. "Please don't do this."

"_I'm so sorry. . ."_ He sounded genuinely regretful, as if this were truly as painful for him as it was for her.

Minnie cried as a powerful sob racked her body. Everything was coming to an end and she was completely helpless to stop it.

"_I never thought this is how it would end." _Leon seemed to be far away, reflecting on an old dream he once considered in his younger years.

"Please," Minnie wasn't capable of much else. She was allowing herself to cry freely while her mind was a jumbled mess. "You can't leave me."

"_I wouldn't if I had a choice."_

"How can it end like this?"

There were no words to describe how unfair the events had played out. The two of them had to be destined for more, they just had to be. For years, Minnie had pondered about their future, how it would end for them. But not this. Leon wasn't supposed to die on her, wasn't supposed to leave her, abandon her.

"_I don't have the answer to that,"_ he paused, seemingly grappling with something. _"I don't always have the answer. . ."_

"Leon," she moaned woefully. She needed him to be with her. To be perched on her couch, eating her out of sugar and sweets, playfully throwing snarky comments her way while she tossed her own teasing remarks his. And then Watari would come in, remind Leon he needed to solve the latest case and keep everyone in line.

"_You know, out of all of my identities—Ryuuzaki, Ryuuga, Coil, _**L**_. . .and the rest—Leon will always be my favorite."_

Minnie laughed between her sobs. "Mine too."

"_Listen to me closely. I only have two regrets in my life."_

Minnie calmed for a moment, listening intently to his next words. Never had he divulged any great regrets to her.

"_My first is Watari's death. It pains me beyond belief knowing that his death is placed upon me—"_

"No, Leon—"

"_Listen, please. He was a tragic and unnecessary casualty and it's haunted me these last few minutes I have left more than it could have in a lifetime. But my second regret is more severe. I will always regret leaving like this—leaving _**you**_ like this."_

The cries started anew as Minnie closed her eyes tightly, willing the entire scenario away.

"_I wish things could have ended differently for us."_

Suddenly, Minnie was overwhelmed with the need to hear his voice, his real voice. It was comforting but this one, masked by a modifier, was distant and impersonal. She begged him to allow her to hear him one last time.

He remained silent for a moment and Minnie was afraid that was it—he had died right there.

". . .Leon?"

"Remember when you were in the hospital?"

Minnie felt a tidal wave of relief when she finally heard his voice.

"When you were shot?"

Minnie nodded and gave him a small sound of acknowledgment that she did indeed remember. It was difficult to forget the first time getting shot.

He continued quickly. "You told me about the dream you created when we were children. About us growing old."

The dream. She had always cherished the dream as a young girl and decided that there was no better time to share it with her best friend than lying in a hospital bed recovering from a traumatic shooting. This was the first time he had mentioned it since then.

It had been a simple scene that popped into her head one day when she was wading through their favorite pond. Leon was an ornery old coot who had long resigned to a wheelchair that he didn't need but insisted on since he had always found walking to be a chore. Minnie would be in the grips of dementia and have to depend on the elderly detective to take care of her. He would tell her stories, simple fabrications and dramatizations of their real life adventures, to help pass the day. After years of subjecting his body to junk food, he would no longer be able to stomach sugary sweets and would then give it to Minnie, so as to live vicariously through her. Leon would take it upon himself to take care of he and he would fully enjoy it.

They would have their two picture frames hanging on the wall side by side, along with a third one with a photo of Watari who had lived to an old age and passed away peacefully in his sleep. Leon would keep a loose contact with his successors, but nothing more. His talents would be used for smaller cases such as who ate all of the bread pudding. It wouldn't be Leon, much to his dismay. Well, maybe a bite. Minnie's dream allowed the old man a few choice luxuries.

Minnie smiled. "You actually remember that?"

"Of course. Out of all of the possibilities, I enjoy that one the most."

**Out of all of the possibilities.**

Was he insinuating he had thought about the future as well?**  
**

"I wish," he continued thoughtfully. "We could have lived it out."

"Me too," Minnie cried softly.

"Remember, keep low, play it safe, and wait for the team to contact you. **Misc. Bath.** is for only you to see."

"Leon," she breathed. She was overwhelmed with the finality, with all of the things she hadn't been able to say. There was so much that needed to be said! But why couldn't she say it?

"Don't dwell on me, I beg you, please. Mourn, cry, it's healthy. But don't let my death rule the rest of your life."

"I need you."

"No, you don't. You'll be fine. You've always found a way. I have to go now. This is making things too difficult."

"Leon—"

"Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Nora."

Minnie froze when she heard the silence on the other end and the dreaded click let her know he had disconnected the call. She took a deep breath and shuddered as the dismay filled her. The cell phone slipped out of her hand and she remained in the middle of the kitchen floor for another two hours before she could pull herself together.

Now she was stuck with undeniable question of what next. Leon was surely dead by then and the team would be contacting her within the next twenty-four hours to pick up his things.

And then what?

Her whole life, since she was twelve, centered on the young man. And now he was gone.

_Not just gone,_ she thought bitterly. _Taken._

_By Kira._

Purpose boiled in the young woman's veins. She would continue his work for him and bring down the monster who allowed this to happen. She would find Leon's successor and help them. This wasn't the end, not for her and most certainly not for Leon. As long as she was alive, he would be alive as well.

After everything they had been through together, she would not allow Leon's death go unavenged.

_Game no, Kira._

What was that saying about Hell and scorned women?

* * *

_A/N: I plan on doing this story as a trilogy, broken up by age ranges. The rest of the chapters of this story are going to be from L's childhood up until about eighteen years of age. Here's a little sneak-peek for the next chapter! _

**Chapter One: Liar, Thy Name is Nora**

"What's your name?" he asked rather not politely.

"Olympia," she stated firmly, her green eyes still looking out across the empty water.

He almost smiled. "You're lying. No parent would waste such a formidable name on a child they'd planned on abandoning in mediocre foster housing."

If the girl found his comment offensive, he couldn't be bothered to care. He had caught her in a lie and she had therefore forfeited any rights to object to his subsequent abuse. In his opinion, he was merely righting an injustice she had inflicted on society. She should be thanking him for putting her back in line and apologizing for even considering to cross it. Her behavior was wrong and he corrected it. She should be both grateful and ashamed—ashamed to even think that she could get away with her misconduct.

A simple shrug and a mumbled, "It would have been nice," was all he received.


End file.
